


Journey Without a Destination

by FlysWhumpCenter (TheDarkFlygon)



Series: Theatro Mundi (BTHB 2) [21]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Abandonment, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Light Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/FlysWhumpCenter
Summary: Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end.Without a point to his life and without a place to stay, Bede journeys day and night, finding some sort of refuge from himself in a forced spell of insomnia.(Spoilers for up to the 6th Gym of SwSh).
Series: Theatro Mundi (BTHB 2) [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453555
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Journey Without a Destination

**Author's Note:**

> Sleep deprivation, written by someone who doesn't like being sleep-deprived.
> 
> Written for my (second) Bad Things Happen Bingo card!  
> https://morbusaegraquescribo.tumblr.com/post/186951923331/here-is-your-new-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo  
> Prompt: Sleep Deprivation + Bede
> 
> This was a request I didn't expect to get, considering it's been literal months since I've gotten one (and longer since I've actually delivered on one... Sorry again, Hubert anon). Thanks for it, Nonnie! I hope you like what I'm delivering haha.  
> We're in the last 5th of the card, which is insane considering it took me a year to complete my first. I've recently gone back to it because wowie kazoowie it's fandom frenzy season again and SwSh has hit full-force with "I want to see more whump of these characters and I'm sure as hell gonna provide it". Nonie's alternatives made me wanna write stuff about Milo now, ah.
> 
> As to the story itself, I decided to make it kinda angsty because what's the point of writing Bede if it ain't to write angst about this guy being abandoned twice and a half? It's a slight canon divergence on what actually happened, but y'know, fanfiction has this cool thing that is "ignoring canon if it starts being inconvenient to me".  
> Also there's Opal because I love this fairy grandma with an obsession for pink and not wanting to be told she's 88-year-old. Hell yeah.

_Keep going, keep going, for there’s nothing to see here._

Pointlessly wandering around the Wild Area, he has nowhere to go and nothing better to do than train and train until something happens or the sweet release of death arrives. There’s nobody for him to get back to, nothing for him to do, and no objective left for him to fulfil. Simply put, he’s stranded, alone with himself, with no Wishing Stars to collect and no Gym Challenge to complete now that he’s been stripped down from his endorsement and thrown away like mere garbage.

Nothing tastes the same, now. There is no pleasure in training when he knows he won’t be able to enter a stadium ever again, no spice to finding new creatures and see if they possibly match his team’s theme. There’s absolutely nothing but bitterness on his mind and salt to be spilled over the wounds he can’t be bothered to patch up, since there’s also no point in railing himself back up again.

And he supposes that’s his fault, in the end.

It’d be easier to blame Gloria and all of her little friends; but as much as he’d like to believe that, it’s not the case and he knows it. She happened to be there, her and that redhaired pigtail woman that’s apparently making research on… whatever she’s making a research on. Thing is, Gloria wasn’t the one who went to get the Chairman, wasn’t the one who called on him: she was merely standing there, contemplating whatever ugly doodle some kid had left on that crumbling wall. That somehow upsets him even more.

There’s also very much no point to mentally ramble about that now. What’s done is done: he’s been disowned, left to rot, with nowhere to go and nothing to accomplish. He’s, by all means, useless and nothing more than a waste of oxygen and resources; and yet he can’t bring himself to just vanish. It’s like he wants to suffer just because disappearing now would make the people who betrayed him right and his only wish, right now, is to either get back at them or regain their trust. He’s not sure whether or not he’d even get affection back (or if he even got “affection” in the first place back there. Not like he’s had much of a model to base himself off).

So, he’s been walking around, avoiding human interaction, with his sole source of social anything being his party. At least, as long as they’re his Pokemon, they won’t abandon him, right? Yeah. They’re always going to be together, between a rock and a hard place. Too bad they don’t seem to be able to tell him about their opinion on the matters at hand, because their telepathic abilities haven’t developed enough yet for that as far as he knows. Man, he wishes he’d be able to talk to them and get an answer instead of just throwing move names at them when he has to fight against the wild population and the couple Trainers dumb enough to fight him.

He still wrecks through their teams, but it has none of the flavour it used to have, and it ultimately only buys him some more money to spend on whatever he needs to continue fighting. Fighting for what other than futureless survival, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know.

As such he’s been walking for days and days, seeing the same stones and weeds all the time, unaware of how long has actually gone buy. He has no ingredients to make curry for his team or himself, resorting to eating whatever he can manage to get his hands on, never settling camps because staying immobile means possibly dying out without having been able to avenge himself. If he stops, he may never resume his journey without a destination; so he never stops, always tries to keep himself busy, even if it means having as sole distractions his own breathing, the faraway cries from the creatures inhabiting the land and whatever the weather decides to throw at him while his team rests. Can’t fight for your life if you have nobody to fight alongside with.

(Pokemon are the only living beings that haven’t left him anyway).

He’s tired. His feet hurt as soon as he takes a step forward or backward, tired of being pushed around when they have nowhere to go and nowhere to rest at. His hands hurt from the cold and almost-frostbite he develops when he crosses across the snowy areas, when he has to gather the balls of his fainted partners whenever he gets assaulted by something bigger than any of them are, tired of having to move and hold things when none of them have meaning or weight to bring to the table. His head hurts from the lack of rest and the tears he can’t always keep to himself, upsetting the Pokemon who haven’t fainted just yet.

Yet, even if he piles on fatigue like he’d put on clothes during the harsh winters, he refuses to sleep. It’d be letting his guard down from dangers coming from both the outside and the inside. It’d be being vulnerable during the downtimes in his tent to vandals and thieves, and during his sleep to nightmares about what’s to come and what could have been, what should have been. He doesn’t want to cry himself back to sleep when he could just ignore it all and simply walk.

Life is simpler when you just walk, walk, walk all day and all night long so he tells himself the same song over and over again.

_Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end._

But, like everything, even he ends up abandoning himself and his feeble principles: before he realizes it, he’s heading to Hammerlocke yet again, feet heavy and eyelids heavier. His eyes have stung for the past day and night with sand, snow and exhaustion, his legs barely move anymore, his balance has been destroyed and buried. The voices in his head most likely don’t exist outside of it, plaguing his thoughts with things he didn’t need to hear.

His thoughts are too cloudy for him to even function properly anymore. He can’t remember how he got there, or why, even less what’s the point of it all. He doesn’t know which day of the week it is, or even which month. Climbing the stairs is painful and drains too much out of his energy, but he then remembers his party is almost fainted and he’s out of items to nurse them back to health, so he has to get up there and do something about it…

He wants to fall asleep right here and there, on the steps, but he can’t.

_Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see in the depths of a desperate soul in search for something it cannot find again._

He has to continue. For what, for who, how and why, all of that doesn’t matter anymore; he just needs to keep going. To keep going and never stop to think ever again.

He supposes the lack of sleep starts getting to him when he can’t focus his eyes on anything in front of him, vision swimming and eyes bleary from the endeavour they’ve gone through until now. There may not be any torrential rain, sandstorms nor snowfalls in Hammerlocke, but there is the blinding sun that gives him a lethal headache and blinds him enough for him not to be able to tell where he’s setting foot anymore.

It’s no wonder he doesn’t manage to rise back up when he eventually tumbles, loses what’s left of his sense of balance and falls to the ground, scrapping his palms and knees, hitting his chin on the pavement, before everything turns fuzzy and dark. Maybe his destination-less journey has finally hit a stop, a halt, or perhaps its actual end. Maybe he doesn’t have to keep walking, keep moving, with no energy and no determination aside from basic survival and vague plans of revenge he doesn’t quite know who to target at.

Maybe that, now that he’s tired enough, he won’t see how much of a failure he’s been in his sleep.

_Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing left else to do for a soul whose purpose has been robbed from it…_

* * *

Opal immediately gets surprised when, while in Hammerlocke for absolutely unrelated reasons, she finds an unconscious boy lying not far away from the stairs to the Wild Area. Aside from his pinks and purples, and his unlikely enchanted-looking hair, he looks less than stellar, weakened by the weather and the exhaustion that must be eating away at his bones, judging from the deep rings under his eyes and the feverish hue plastered over the bridge of his nose. She’s seen him somewhere before, she’s certain of it; but all she can remember from that is a sense of betrayal and a feeling of cold-hearted abandonment, so she walks up to him.

“ _Oh, such a fairy-like young man…_ ”

How is an old lady like her supposed to let such a poor boy, moreover one who could become her successor, in such a dire situation? He seems to have gotten himself in quite a lot of troubles, even more than those she has heard about from the other Leaders and information broadcast in her theatre. It’d be too cruel to let him in the open like that. She has to at least get to know him, to discover if he is her true successor.

For now, thinking of the near future has little to no point, she’s better off calling for help before the boy suffers from hypothermia in the harsh winter sunny winds of Galar. Perhaps she can give him what he doesn’t seem to have anymore…

_Keep going, keep going; for there is a purpose to everyone in this world, a purpose you have yet to find for yourself, waiting for you at the end of the seemingly endless journey._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, fun fact: I originally planned to fill this with Derek from Trauma Center, but getting such a request was a golden opportunity I couldn't pass up on, so I think I'm gonna finish the oneshot I started before on its own. Yeet.


End file.
